The Lord's Work

Terry Jenkins was exhausted. 1

Seven hours of his day, which started at six in the morning, were spent at school and were a waste of his time. He was taught things he would never need, and had to deal with taunting, violent boys and teasing, trampy girls. Seven more hours were spent at the butcher shop, where at least he was getting paid to slaughter cattle and mop up blood. The conditions of the slaughter house were below the standards of the health code, but working in the rank environment with all the older men made him feel like he was with his own2

The hour long bus ride he faced at the end of these nights was only an added tribulation. He was enclosed in a hot, foul-smelling space with as many “social blemishes,” as Reverend Matheson called them, as could be fit together. Empty-headed schoolgirls clustered in the back and gabbed away loudly in their tight blouses and short skirts. Mexican women let their multitudes of screaming, dirty-faced children run wild, jostling everyone. Chinese men conversed in the harsh, rapid-fire syllables of their language. Dark old gypsy ladies glowered at everyone from inside their bulky brown coats and floral-print kerchiefs. 3

When Terry got off at the stop out front of the brownstone he lived in, he felt the headache he’d been nurturing mature into a ferocious migraine. 4

He walked up the seven flights of stairs, trudging through more of the same babbling, yelling, and cursing, which didn’t cease when he got to the apartment he shared with his mother and two young sisters.5

“Terry, did you get your check cashed today?” his mother, Judy Jenkins, asked the second he closed the door behind him. The sight of her garish make-up and skin-tight too-short dress didn’t surprise him.6

“Going out with a client tonight, mom?” he asked, dully. 7

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”8

“Why do you need my money, then?”9

“I’m gonna stop at the drug store afterward to pick up the medicine for Trixie’s ear infection.”10

“Are you going to tell your john that?”11

“I’ve had enough’a your lip, Terry,” she snapped. “I do this so you three can have dinner every night, ya’know? You think I’d be able to do that just operating a switchboard?”12

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re a disease-spreading whore!” he barked, before the back of her hand cut him off. 13

“Everyone at church looks down on me because of what you do!” he spat, rubbing his cheek. “I’m surprised Reverend Matheson even lets me into Bible study when everyone knows my mother is an Old Testament-style whore.”14

“And how do you think they know, huh? Their goddamn fathers are some of my best-paying clients!”15

“Don’t you spread those lies!”16

Before furthering another one of their nightly arguments, Judy shut her mouth and stared at her son, fuming.17

“Gimme the money, I’m late.”18

Terry pulled half of his paycheck out of his pants pocket and put it in her waiting hand. 19

“Fifteen dollars? That’s it?” she asked, incredulously.20

“It’ll pay for the medicine, won’t it? Or do you need more for dope?”21

She sighed, before saying “I don’t want to see you when I get home. I don’t care if you’re in bed or you’re out on the street or what. Just make sure Mindy’s fed and washed and put to bed early. Only go into Tixie’s room if she calls you, she’s in a lot of pain.”22

“Sins of the mother.”23

“Don’t you start,” she hissed before lowering her eyes and muttering “Thanks for the money.”24

The slam of the door brought blessed silence. 25

Terry went to his room, opened a drawer and out took a six-inch hunting knife, which had belonged to his father, the first Terrance Jenkins, who’d died when his son was nine. He grabbed his coat and made sure he had all of the money he’d withheld from his mother, then stormed out of the apartment.26

The south side of town was much livelier than the side of town where Terry lived. The darkness was colored by neon lights and far more street lamps, the air filled with the sound of laughter and the smell of grease. It did little to raise Terry’s spirits; if anything, it only made him angrier. 27

Sinners, he thought, looking at the silhouettes of people moving behind the windows of the dimly lit bars, and the packs of smirking boys giggling as they walked past the strip clubs. Filth.28

It reminded him of Reverend Matheson’s words from earlier that week, on a similar night when Terry had left the house during the evening and rode the bus halfway across town to Church of the Eternal Savior. 29

“Sins of the flesh, everywhere you look, Terry. True, you can see how this country prospered after our boys came home from the war and you’d think the Lord still had a strong grip on the hearts of our leaders. But it’s not so. The 60s will soon be on us and you see how much power the Jews are gaining and how they’re mixing black and white establishments.30

“It’s sick,” Terry had snarled in disgust, sitting across from Rev. Matheson’s desk in a brown leather armchair. 31

“But the worst problem by-far is what women are doing. Just like Eve in the Garden, Terry, women let their minds fall prey to the whispers of the Devil and are led astray from the straight and narrow path of marriage and motherhood. Selling their flesh for money,” the reverend had said, his eyes narrowing and his skin reddening with conviction. “Letting the Devil use their flesh to entice and ensnare good and honest men in their webs of disease and sin.”32

Terry had broken out in a nervous sweat, thinking of his mother.33

As if the reverend could read his mind, his voice was calm and soothing when he said “It’s no secret what your mother does, Terry. She may justify it, saying that she does it to support you and those two little sisters of yours who I doubt have ever seen the inside of a church, but that doesn’t make it any less wrong. She led herself down that path in life and it’s up to her to accept the Lord into her heart and change her ways. But,” he added, smiling, “with a son like you who is so strong and so devoted to the Lord, I’m sure it’ll be much easier for her. She just has to gain the good sense to listen to you.”34

Terry had walked out of the church smiling proudly. That grin warmed his face as he walked down the hazily lit street, the church coming into view.35

“Hey, honey,” a silken voice snaked over to his ears. He turned and saw a woman standing against a streetlight, smirking at him coyly. She wore a shirt that was tight and low-cut and a shirt that was hardly more than an undergarment. She had short, curly blonde hair and looked to be in her mid-30’s, from the lines in her face and the hardness in her eyes, but she had the facial features of someone much younger. 36

She held a cigarette delicately in her hand and smoke unfurled from the glowing red tip, drifting upwards and settling above her head in a shape like a halo.37

“You’ll have a better time with me than you will in that old church, honey,” she snickered.38

Terry pulled the knife out of his pocket and pointed it toward her. The blade glinted in the streetlight and he could see its reflection in her widened eyes.39

“That church is my protection from whores like you,” he snarled. She turned and ran, looking back over her shoulder once before disappearing across the street. He smirked in satisfaction, thinking about how pleased Reverend Matheson would be when he heard such a display of courage and conviction. Terry looked over to the church just in time to see a figure locking its heavy doors.40

He broke into a run, watching the figure walk away from the church slowly, but had to stop for the traffic at the next signal. From a block away, Terry recognized Reverend Harry Matheson’s hulking frame and balding head underneath his black Fedora. 41

“Reverend Matheson!” he called, but the honking of passing cars drowned out his voice. Terry crossed when he could and jogged after the reverend, dodging people on the sidewalk who glared at him with faces of all colors but his own. He slowed when he saw Reverend Matheson duck into a storefront, walked to the same spot and was confused when he saw the façade of the building. It was a place called “Silver’s” and there was a huge sign, filling up the window, reading “LIVE NUDE GIRLS!”42

Was this the place he’d gone into? Terry wondered. He looked around and saw that the windows of all the other shops were dark, having close hours ago. His confusion turned into horror, thinking about Reverend Matheson in that place, but then Terry remembered the reverends’ stories about going to places such as these - strip clubs, bars, cheap motels, and even prostitutes on street corners - to preach the good word and beg the sinners to follow him to righteousness. Terry smiled once more, awed by the lengths the reverend would go and the conditions he would brave, braving hellfire to come directly to these dens of sin just to save these people’s souls. 43

He walked into the club and was immediately confronted by a tall, muscular man asking to see his drivers license. There was low, rhythmic music playing and, over the man’s shoulder, Terry could see women dancing on a stage, wearing nothing but slim strips of fabric over their breasts and hips.44

“I don’t drive,” Terry answered, stonily. 45

“If you can’t give me a photo ID showing you’re over 18, you’re not getting near the girls.”46

“But I need to--”47

“I don’t give a fuck what you need, you little shit. Stay by the bar or get the fuck out,” the man barked.48

Terry scowled at him, fuming, ready to yell the words of God back into his face, but resisted, knowing that creating a scene would just detract from Reverend Matheson’s efforts. He slunk over to the bar area. There was a low railing separating the bar patrons from the strip club patrons. Terry sat at a small table and stared out at the tables in front of the stage, his eyes narrowed.49

Several of the tables were occupied but the lights were dim so he could only see silhouettes. But the lights on the stage were bright enough that he could clearly make out the angel wings tattooed on the skinny blonde woman shoulder blades.50

“Blasphemous whore,” Terry grumbled, stroking the knife handle through his pocket. 51

The blonde sauntered to the edge of the stage and swung her hips, smiling down at one of the tables upfront. There was only one man sitting there. He reached his arm out and tucked some bills into the girl’s sorry excuse for underwear. She plucked a black Fedora off of his head, revealing a dome of skull covered with thin hair. When the girl put it on crooked and grinned, the man threw his head back, laughing, and Terry could see his white priest collar brightly contrasting from the dimness. 52

Terry’s heart caught in his throat and he had to swallow hard several times to keep from vomiting. He balled his fists up tight and his first instinct was to jump over the railing, plow through the tables, pull the girl down from the stage and smack her hard across her face. 53

Whore, was the only thing he could think clearly. Disgusting whore, tempting a man of God. Surely, she must be the Devil himself in flesh. 54

He stood up and stalked out of the club. He turned down an alley and waited by the back exit. He could still hear the music and, in his mind, heard the blonde’s throaty laugh, even imagined her silky voice saying things to Reverend Matheson. “Are you here to save me, Father?”55

He stroked the knife handle remembered something the reverend had said to him once, concerning his conviction and fervor: “Your generation needs to have more Christians like you, Terry. You look up to the Lord the way other boys look up to football players!”56

“And why shouldn’t I?” Terry had replied proudly. “How could anyone respect a mortal more than he respects God? He creates and destroys… how he destroys… he sees sin and he destroys it completely with floods, fire, pestilence…”57

Terry remembered those words and grew warm, standing in the biting night chill and watching the gleam of his knife blade. 58

He remembered and he spoke, his hoarse voice rustling the quiet.59

“Floods, fire, pestilence… knives…”60

Terry didn’t move or become aware of anything else until he heard the back door opening; he was sure it must’ve been hours later. He stepped into the shadow of a dumpster and watched several women file out, lighting cigarettes, chattering to each other and flashing their sharp, painted eyes around them as they walked through the alley and into the street. The blonde was the last one out and she lingered for a few seconds, buttoning up the long coat she wore over her simple brown dress. 61

“Providence,” Terry whispered, stepping out of the shadows.62

“Ma’am?” he asked. She saw him and jumped. He pulled some cash out of his pocket and held it towards her. Her expression softened and she smiled. “I saw you in there. I think you’re beautiful.”63

“Do you, honey? Thank you.” She stepped towards him and undid the buttons of her coat and then her dress, revealing small, pale breasts. She kissed him and he felt like he would vomit. Her mouth tasted sour and she reeked of sweat and cigarette smoke. One of his hands went around her hips and the other grabbed the knife handle. 64

“That priest…” he breathed when her mouth left his65

“Huh?” she asked, nuzzling his neck. 66

“The one you danced for earlier.”67

“Oh, Reverend Matheson? What about him, honey? He’s in here all the time. Some man of God, huh? You wouldn’t believe the things he’s asked me--”68

“Liar!” he barked. She made a shuddering gasp as he slammed her against the brick wall. “Filthy lying whore! How dare you, ensnaring a man of God in your web of sin!” He shoved her against the wall again, her skull bouncing hard against the brick. Her eyes went glossy and blood trickled from her mouth. 69

“Please… I… let… let me go…” she gasped, disoriented.70

“Your evil ways,” he said, bringing the knife into her view. “They end tonight.”71

The girl’s eyes focused and widened, her fervor for life renewed as she started to thrash and scream. “Oh God, oh God, don’t--”72

He stabbed her in the throat several times, with quick jerky motions but she only continued to wheeze and shriek, then finally she was gurgling, blood pouring down her chest. “That’s what you get for using the Lord’s name, whore!” he barked over her noise, before slitting her throat from ear to ear.73

She went limp, and when he let her go she folded into a pile of bloody clothes, her eyes glassy like a dolls’. 74

Terry went through her pockets and retrieved several red-smudged dollar bills before hurrying down a back alley, leaving the girl staring emptily into the night.75

***76

When Reverend Harry Matheson got to his office at the Church of the Eternal Savior the next morning, he saw an envelope with his name on it lying on his desk. He instantly recognized Terry Jenkins’ labored handwriting. He remembered Miss Ross’ complaints that Terry had the worst penmanship in her Bible study class. 77

When he opened the envelope and unfolded the piece of paper it contained, several crumpled dollar bills fell onto the desk. They were smudged red. First, he chuckled to himself, remembering the dancing blonde who he went to see often, but would only tell him that her name was Candy. Then he was confused. Then finally, he was terrified. 78

Blackmail. Oh Lord, he knows and he’s going to blackmail me…79

Then the reverend read the note, made the connection to the red stains on the money, and shivered with a fear that ran much deeper. 80

“Oh God, give me strength,” he whispered, staring at the simple sentence scrawled on the paper. All it said was:81

“The Lord's work is being done.”